Daire
by The Midnight Rain
Summary: A young girl who knows only of court, discovers a different kind. The Fae Queen, A dark knight, and enchantments of all sorts help her to learn what it means to truly give away ones heart.
1. Prolouge

A note from the author

Dreams never reveal what a person wishes them to. They are cryptic and silent, even when they wake one screaming. Sometimes one finds themselves straining to hear an echo, or cowering from a simple whisper. Such is the power of the imagination. It takes the world that is so normal and orderly, and turns it around. It meshes the shadows and illuminates memory. It hides in wait, a soundless stalker, waiting for its prey. Deep hidden fears and desires arise, yet…is this all they are? If dreams can be a doorway to the past, why not elsewhere? Why not to the future, or to another place entirely? Is it so improbable, so ridiculous that this could be so? Throughout the world's history, people claim to see the future. Ghosts arise from their reverberating tombs, and reveal their murderer. Good and evil are harbored in the realms of dreams, just as they are harbored inside the human soul. Beautiful wings, outstretch in the sun, pale light filtering through pure feathers. A dark mare, eyes red as hell itself, coat black as a hopeless night. All lie within mans intellect.

So dream and fly, but remember the fall is long and perilous. For in every night there is a masquerade, and in every morn the end of the hearts vision. Hearken, for now the morrow begins, and your love is far away.

What lies ahead of us, dear readers, is a mix of imagination, childhood stories, and too many late nights spent doing nothing. Please enjoy, and try not to fall.


	2. A green book and a Nightingale

Kingdoms are born from a single cause, uniting the people, and the upper-class. Kings and Queens fall if there is an imbalance. Revolutions, uprisings, usurpations. All are a result of a shaky monarchy, a throne not assured. If one falls, so does the other. This is the mighty scale that balances the country named Daire. The peasants lived in peace with the king, it was, however, impossible to convert the lower class people, fully from paganism, to the 'rightful Christian belief'. That is not to say that the people of Daire did not believe in the new religion, but rather, they preferred the old.

The common peoples were content however, to include a few new things into their own practices, but the forests still held their souls. Within these tall tales, lurked beasts that rose from the deeps, in the form of a beautiful horse. A maiden with hair as gold as the sun, beguiling and innocent, can turn quickly into a hag, withered and ugly as a rotten apple. Or a hideous wasted hag, demanding a kiss, would change to a beauteous maiden.

Throughout Daire, many kings had ruled, yet the kind, generous, noble king was said to be the most worthy. Niall had risen to the challenge of uniting the people, and keeping them so. He was a tall pillar which everyone looked to for guidance. He gave alms to the poor, and he fed the hungry. His son however was not so.

King Niall and Queen Merris bore Prince Phalen. Phalen was a spoiled selfish child, who grew into a spoiled selfish man. He married a strange princess, from a neighboring land, and did away with her when she gave him a mere daughter. The wait to ascend the throne, was not a long trial for him, for by his twenties, his father fell ill and died.

The mourning was short in the palace, while it lasted many years outside. Taxes were raised, people starved, diseases spread, and life moved on. That is not to say that Phalen did nothing for his kingdom. It is to say that he did very little. It was a bearable misfortune, rather like a curable cold.

It may also be said that many came forth to fight for the throne, and none could beat

Phalen. The king was vain and self-centered, but he had grown up a prince, with the suitable training as one. As such, the day that Phalen inherited the throne, he drew into his own room for a day of reflection, emerged that night to be kinged, and slept that evening, as the embodiment of the country. Nor, as a husband was he a total failure. He had, to his credit, fathered the girl child, and, when he did away with his first wife, he kept the girl, and gave the woman a pension. Three wives later, a boy was born, and the throne secured for his family once more.

The daughters of the king Phalen were brought up with manners, grace, and the art of Needlepoint, embedded in their minds. That was, until his third wife bore his seventh daughter.

A stout old woman breathed heavily as she bustled around a rioting garden courtyard.

"When I get my hands on that wench…Oh she'll nay sit for a fortnight!" Cheeks red from anger, and mottled with the exercise she was apparently used to, but still resented, the woman stomped bad temperedly back to a cobbled path, and into a wide set stone arch door.

After the woman was out of sight, a giggle erupted from a dense crowd of bushes. A girl with a foxy look on her face, climbed from behind the thick branches and vegetation. Brown hair flashed gold in the sun, as she took a deep breath an smiled. Making sure she was out of sight to the stout, fiery woman, the girl stepped onto a winding path. It took the girl past emerald hues that competed for sun, and pale flowers which shied from busy bees. The path led her along an ivy covered wall, stretching high into the warm, unmoving air. She brushed past the roughly hewn stones, idly trailing her hand behind her. Gentle lilies and wild roses rioted along the wall, claiming what space they could, with a contented eagerness.

She followed the trail until another grand arch was in front of her. Irish roses nodded at her, as the breeze slowly picked, strewing some of their delicate pink and white petals across the path. Walking past them, the girl nodded back regally, acknowledging their good nature, and moved on. Slippered feet tapped along the path lightly, and soon the cobbles changed to a polished marbled floor. Hesitating only slightly, the mischievous girl stepped onto a foot carpet the colour of spilt wine. The Red carpet split into two directions, and upon another surreptitious glance around her, the girl followed the second. Large, foreboding doors of a dark mahogany, stood at attention, glowering with silent disapproval. Pushing the door open, the girl slipped inside, holding the door so it closed quietly.

Tall rows of books met her vision, as she weaved through many of the stacks, to a dark corner. The books that lay there were covered in dust, and clearly had not been used for a long time. Spiders scurried away frantically as she extended her hand, and selected a green leather bound book, with vellum script. Opening it, as if it were some great secret, the girl leaned over, and moved her fingers lovingly over the page, before closing it, and putting it down beside her. A smaller book, of tan, the girl slipped into a pocked in her skirt. She reached for another, but the sound of a shriek dragged her away from the heaven she had found herself in.

"Aisling Caellie Athair, so help me, by the goddess if I find you, I'll wring your neck!"

Starting, the brown-haired girl cast around for an escape desperately, and grabbed the green book, and started from the spot she had settled. With the final thoughts she possessed, she ran from her spot, and dashed to a section marked clearly for women, by the sprigs of rosemary attached to the shelves. Some of the women believed it helped fertility. With blind chance, she grasped a book on needlework, with pictures only, and fell to her knees, assuming a position that looked as if she had been reading quite a long time. Seconds later the doors flew open, and an enraged shrew of a woman entered, eyes blazing, and face splotchy. With a cry of a triumphant vulture, she lighted upon the girl named Aisling.

"A appealing sigh' you be! Sittin' pretty as you please, readin, whilst I search for her royal highness for the third time this morn!" The woman accused shrilly.

"Mrs. Mcquillan, please!" Aisling protested, turning the page to the needlework book.

"I merely wandered away from lessons. Tis nothing to be upset about."

Mrs.Mcqullian showed she did not feel the same, when she growled and raised her finger warningly.

"It wouldn't be, if it weren't the fifth lesson in three days! Your teachers despair at you, you know that? You can not dance, your needlework is horrible-" Aisling turned the book towards the woman, and pointed to the diagrams.

"I'm studying." she said, injured.

"-not to mention the fact that you couldn't manage a household if your life depended on it." "But it doesn't!" Aisling replied grumpily.

"But it will!" The shrewish woman countered.

"One day, you will be a bride, and you will have to manage your husbands estate. You may have a fine dowry, but no man will take you if you can't do anything." With a sniff, Erin Mcquillan half turned from Aisling, and with a deep, resentful sigh, the young girl rose to stand. Even though Aisling stood a few feet taller then Eirinn, the old woman towered over her, beady eyes suspicious. Bending down, the girl collected the needlework book, and put it over the green bound book, without drawing attention to them.

Walking in the tracks of Mrs.Mcquillan, Aisling kept her head bent low, looking at her feet, as she thought about the green book. So much in fact, that when Mrs.Mcquillan stopped, she walked right into her, and dropped the two tomes she held. With an apology, she dived to pick them up before the older woman turned around. Locating the red one, Aisling clutched it to her chest, and scanned for the other.

"Ah! There you are!" the girl breathed. Her triumph was short lived however, when she saw the booted foot that rested on it. Traveling the length of the leg unto the burly body of her father, Aisling recoiled.

"Thank you father, I should need that book for my studies." The girl said, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Ignoring what his daughter said, the man reached down, and

retrieved the book, looking at it curiously.

"This book I have not seen in the class rooms." He rumbled, as she opened the cover, and thumbed the pages. His face paled considerably, then darkened to a deep red.

"What do you mean by this? Learning witchcraft?" He hissed.

"No father! It's stories, simply fairy stories!" Aisling protested, hand outstretched, and spread. Scrambling to stand, the girl faced her father, her own face white as a midnight Lilly.

"Fairy stories, witchcraft. Both the same. Besides, you are too old to be concerning yourself with this rubbish. A daughter of the King is to be well mannered, good tempered, and meek! Not some gypsy who runs about and reads whatever she wants." Disgusted, the King pocketed the green book.

"If I catch you reading this refuse again, I will beat you soundly." He promised, storming away then, heading to his chambers, Aisling surmised.

While she had been berated, Mrs.Mcquillan had withdrawn from Aisling's side. Now that the King had left, Eirinn took her place by the girls side, and mimicked her fathers own lecture, with more embellishments, including the place her eternal soul would burn. Rolling her eyes, Aisling bore it as patiently as she could, until she could take the harangue no more.

"Leave me be Eirinn Mcquillan. I have no wish to hear you nag me all day. Tell the kitchen to bring my food to my room, and be down with you." Aisling cried with a weary voice.

The woman turned with a sniff, and left her mistresses side, showing she was very offended. Not caring, Aisling made her fatigued way to her room.

A high, heavily engraved four-poster rose from the floor in a marvelous array of silks and woodwork. Without a second look at the beautiful bed, Aisling trudged to the apartments next door, and rung for hot water. It was brought a short while later, along with her food. Undressing, and stepping into the lavender scented water, the Princess picked at her meal, appetite lost. She pushed the tray away from her and with a groan, sank her head beneath the water.

'_I've done it again. Disappointed Father. Of course, if you were born with breasts, you already have…I wonder what my punishment will be. Belike I will be forced to darn the royal guards socks…again. Or…I might-' _Aisling's thoughts interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"Highness?" A voice called inward tentatively.

"Enter." Was Aisling's reply.

"Your_ Father_ has sent you a note."A servant came in bearing the letter, as if it were gold.

"Very well." Sighing, she accepted the note, Stretching her hand from the bath water, her gold eyes keen.

' _Aisling,_

_You will not be able to attend the gala held tomorrow night. You will instead be ill. Try not to destroy any other change of marriage. _

_The King.'_

A growl emitted from Aislings throat.

"No one knows I was reading! How could I destroy my marriage chances with a book?" Incredulous, the Princess cast the letter from her. The servant smiled wryly.

"Your father isn't the sort of man to keep anything quiet is he? I heard him yelling from the kitchens." Not waiting for a flippant reply, the maid left, later to tell the kitchen of the Princess's reaction. "She would be prettier if she didn't scowl half so much." She would say to the laughing Page.

The Princess meanwhile, sent the bath water away, and grabbing her clothes from the floor, carried them to her dressing chambers herself. She glared at the dress that hung waiting for the ball, and the elegant slippers beneath it.

Needing something to do, she shook out her skirt, and was hit in the head by a flying green book. Glaring at the book that lay on the ground, it took her a moment to realize what it was.

'_Of course! I took two books out today! I put this one in my pocket!' _

Thoughtfully, she reached for a night gown, and dressed one handed, still staring at the book in wonderment. Accomplished dressing with one hand, Aisling took an unlighted candle, and set it to blaze from the fire in her the hearth of a large fireplace. She lit twelve candles all around her and settled into a comfortable chair.

She had barely opened the page, when a candle behind her blew out. Growling she ignored the one less light and read on, grimacing at the misspelling that marred the page.

'The Fae are a rase of misterious, and mischevious faeries. There are diffrent tipes, each as unice as a flower. Many are playfule to the pointe of harm, and some case harme deliberatlye.

Of all Fae, Queene Mariae rules. Her mother, Mab was moste of famos, but she was a kinder queen-'

The eleven other candles blew out successively, and Aisling rose from her chair with a growl. A sound arrested her, though. It was the sound of a bird outsider her window. The equivalent to the Irish Nightingale, the Princess shuddered.

At night, it was said that when the bird sang, it as truly the voice of a thousand dead children, crying to their mother, hoping to comfort them.

Aisling crawled into her bed, tucking the little green book beneath her pillow, and closed her eyes, unaware of the laughter that mingled with the bird outside her waking mind.


	3. Embroidery and a Wolf

**_Sorry it took so long to add the next chapter. It's been busy at school. Thank you for your patience, and reviews. They are truly appreciated. _**

Sunlight washed over the cold floor, warming it gently. Pale light filtered through the heavy curtains that surrounded Aisling's bed, lightening it to a mere degree. The Princess was, however, spared the effort of waking up on her own volition, by a sudden increase in light, and a shrill voice in her ear.

"Wake up you lazy-bones! No more lyin' abed for you!" Jumping violently, the Princess did a very un-princess-like thing, such as falling out of the bed and cursing. Hissing, she shaded her eyes from the light, and looked up at the very satisfied Mrs.Mcquillan.

"In lieu of the Christian hell, I get you!" Aisling growled, picking herself up, along with her remaining shards of dignity.

"I' faith Child! If you sleep away the day, you shant retrieve what you've missed." Mrs. Mqcuillain laughed, a smirk playing across her harsh features. Snarling and muttering about how she would rather have not missed her sleep, the Princess waved away the outspoken maid.

Aisling had a brisk bath in lukewarm water; for it had been brought while she was still abed, and got dressed. Pulling a kirtle over her tousled hair, and dragging a comb through the resentful locks, the Princess prepared herself for a rough day.

She wasn't too far off either. The minute she left her room, things went wrong. Stumbling over a lump in the carpet, which turned out to be a mouse, Aisling tore a hole in her skirt, and flailing to regain her balance, fell flat on her face. To add to the embarrassment, servants had been milling about, trying to hide the grin on their visage.

"Must I order you to complete your tasks?" Aisling demanded, her distemper evident in the cold briskness of her voice, contrasting with her flushed face. The servants resumed their busy paces, seeming faster then before, none wishing to be noticed by the irate Princess.

'_Today will be very bad for my self-esteem_.' She mourned, as she returned to her room, to replace her torn dress, leaving it on her bed for a servant to collect. In a much more plain dress, she ventured forth once more, her eyes wide open, on the floor, praying she would catch any other errant mice hiding beneath the runner, before she met the same fate as the rug. Running in a straight line and then turning sharply to the left, Aisling opened a door to a rather plain room, painted in suitably calming colours. The colours were equaled only by the suitably uncomfortable wooden chairs.

Everything in the room was approved and proper for a _suitable_ young woman. Fighting the urge to turn tail and run, Aisling took her place in the seventh chair, and was soon joined by ten other women, going from twelve to eighteen.

Shea, the eldest, was tall, and a fair as the morning sun. Skin pale and creamy, she was to be married in the springtime, to a handsome noble from Citrien.

Erika, the second in line, was seventeen, and two months. Erika had wild red hair, adored by many. It seemed a flashing flag, heralding victory. Erika; however well mannered, was resentful that she was to marry a mere merchant from Re'en. Erika had two sisters, one dark haired and fair, and the other dark haired, with tanned skin. Their names were Karin and Loraen.

Karin and Loraen followed Erika in marriages, each to their own respective estates. After them, came Mary, named for her religious mother. For all her faith, Mary was the bastard child of the king, and the daughter of his minister. Though, she was not considered to be 'royal', by the standards of society, Mary fit right in, with the sisters. Always the first to offer forgiveness, or condemn, Mary had chosen to go into a convent if she was not married by twenty. Evelyn, her twin sister, was her polar opposite. Obsessed with every new Knight and page that entered the castle, the two pale blonde haired sisters made living together an entertainment, one always a bane to the other.

Next was Aisling, the seventh daughter to the family. After her came her brother Jacinth, and following him came her little sister, Rea. Rea would be a beauty, Aisling thought, when she grew older. With hair, black as night, and rosy checks, she already had interested suitors, though she was only twelve, and most of the men in their late twenties.

"I heard you were caught reading that nonsense again." Smirking, Erika reminded the younger girl of her unfortunate exposure.

"Hush Erika, you leave her be." Shea calmly insisted, as she executed a particularly hard double stitch.

"It's her fault she got caught." Erika pouted, thrusting her lips out, in a decidedly pretty manner. Aisling was envious of Erika's ability to make even her surliest moods look gorgeous. She never managed such a thing. The best she could do when she was angry, or contrite, was keep her mouth closed.

"It's her own business what she reads. Soon enough, she'll be with some noble husband, and she'll be expected to be perfect. Let her be while she still can." The mild Mary spoke up, voicing her thoughts for once. Sharing a kind smile with Aisling, she returned to her cross-stitch. Grinning wickedly, Evelyn echoed her sentiments, but added on, "She'll be too busy on her back, to be reading anyway." All the women in the room gasped, but for Rea, who did not understand what her older sister was getting at. Biting her tongue, to keep from laughing and growling at the same time, Aisling concentrated on unknotting her snarled thread. Karin and Lorean giggled behind their own projects, sheep to Erika's flock. Retreating into herself, Aisling merely frowned, and soon enough, the talk moved onto more courtly things, like fashion, and who was courting whom.

A brief pardon from her sisters, Aisling and the others abjured for their own midday meal, and a change of shifts. Her solitude was not to be hers however, as her father joined her for her meal.

Murmuring her welcome, and keeping her eyes demurely on the floor, she thanked the Goddess that she had hidden her book

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your joining me?" Aisling asked, her breath held. The king, as Aisling mostly thought of him, deigned to look down at her before sniffing.

"I wanted to follow up on the note you received last night." He enlightened, as the Princess's heart sank. She bolted down her food the moment it was brought, knowing she wouldn't have an appetite when he was finished.

"An expansion if you will," _ 'Goddess preserve me, if he doesn't expand and take the whole world with him' _Aisling thought in rebellion.

"You will not be allowed to attend the ball, not only because you have disgraced our family, and religion with your nonsense, but you will be meeting in a month's time, with your possible suitors." _ 'Suitors? Please your Lordship _anything_ but that!' _Sarcastically, Aisling finished her first course, but already, she could feel the effect of her Fathers presence sink in, and eat away her desire to eat. With a melancholy air, she waved away the next course, and gazed in yearning at the voracious King, as he devoured all that was put in front of him, while still talking. Wincing as food fell from his mouth, the King made violent gesticulations, and loud noises, with which Aisling was content to ignore. _'I got it your Highness. Dishonour, no ball for you, dishonour, useless noise.' _

Finally, what seemed and eternity later, to Aisling, her father finished his rant. Leading him to the door, she curtsied, and shut the door hastily. Leaning on it, she took a deep breath. Repeating this several times, she opened her eyes, and for a moment, was at peace.

This was broken by a rapping on her door, and the voice of her dance teacher shrill, and commanding. Groaning, Aisling opened the door, and was whisked away to her dancing lesson. She soon escaped it, after she trod on her teachers foot for the tenth time in twenty turns. Banished, Aisling kept the pretense of disgrace, until she was out of earshot, and then broke down into a fit of laughter.

Pleading a headache, she was able to be absent from her arithmetic lesson, and she returned gratefully back to her room. This time, there was no King awaiting her, and even Mrs. Mquillan has arranged to be busy. So, locking her rooms, and awaiting nightfall, Aisling satisfied herself in reading her fairy tales.

At the turn of Ten, Aisling had opened her writing desk, and happily re-wrote the endings to many of her favoured tales. It had been a pastime of hers, ever since her mother had told her her very first story.

"_In the green hills of Ir'aen," She would begin, her voice low and sweet." There lived a man named Aiden, of the fiery hair. One day he went a walking in the many hills, and came to a strange forest. He entered it, and upon doing so, a beautiful maiden was made plain to his sight. 'Well come Aiden of the Fiery hair', she said to the lad. Aiden, had fallen in love with the maiden the minute he had seen her, and her voice, to him was the most beautiful he had ever heard. 'Greetings fair maid. Where have I wandered?' Aiden asked. _

'_To the ends of the earth, where the shadows never fall.' The Woman replied." _

Aisling always laughed when her mother changed voices to match the character. Curling up closer to her mother, the child-Princess would lay her head on her chest, and hear the beating of the woman's heart, and the vibrations of her voice.

"_Everyday, Aiden visited the maiden in the woods, until one day, she asked him to come with her back to her home. Having known for a while, that the beautiful woman was in truth, a Fae, Aiden agreed. 'How long will I be gone?' He inquired._

'_Forever and a day.' She replied._

_The minute Aiden had agreed to accompany her, a pair of steeds, made from sun, galloped behind the Fae silently. Mounting up, they rode into yesterdays, and dreams, to finally arrive in the realm of the Faeries. For a life and a day, they danced and sung, and feasted, and Aiden never grew old. Then, one day, the Maiden, named Ianna told Aiden he must return to the world of mortals._

'_I have loved you for a lifetime and a day, and now you must return. You are not of our world, but when you return, you will not be part of theirs either."_ The queen smiled sadly at this, and shook her head. Then she continued.

"_Aiden returned home to his village, to find that time had moved on without him. He became known as the old man who lived at the edge of the village, and everyone went to see him, regarding visions. For the world of the Fae left their mark on him forever. It had taken from him, his sight, and given him another. Able to tell the future and the past, and read into life, he spent twenty years never changing, with the words of his Faerie love telling him 'I will return for you.' People grew old and died, while he remained old, but never passed. Children grew up, and into their mid thirties, knowing him. Then one day he was gone, and the entire village talked."_

"Why did the village talk? Did they have nothing to talk about before?" Aisling asked her mother, her eyes wide.

"They talked because no matter where they looked, none could remember if he had said anything about leaving." Her mother replied, scowling slightly. "Now let me finish."

"_In fact, in a while, the village could remember very little about the man at all. Children who had called him old man, who grew old, calling him old man, slowly forgot him. In time, no one remembered him at all, but for a passing wind, which would smell of crushed mint and basil. Then they would think, 'Ah- I know this smell…of an old man long ago…' All that was ever found of him was his walking stick, near the forest. Whispers said he was bewitched, but some believe his love finally came for him."_

Aisling's mother would then stand and stretch, as the tiny princess lay staring off into space.

"I don't want her to come back for him…" She murmured her dark eyes wide.

"Why not?" Her mother would ask.

"Because…he should see the world. Or find his love. Not mope about waiting. I want him to find someone else at least. Who will let him live in her world." Aisling would explain. Conversations such as these were always imminent after a tale orated by her mother.

Of all the people Aisling missed the most, the one at the top of her list was her mother. It was not that she was dead, or even far away, but that she was distant. She never came by her apartments anymore. There were no sweet sprigs of lavender tucked beneath her pillow. If she had been dead or far away, it might have been easier.

'_I might have been able to forgive her.' _Aisling thought bitterly, shoving her writing desk off her lap, hating that it reminded her so much of her mother.

Laughter and chatter rang through the halls outside her room.

" 'You will not be attending the Gala held tomorrow night.' " Aisling mimicked, her mouth turned down, with a frown on her countenance.

Contriving to sit still for an hour, finally the Princess could take it no more. A foolish idea came to her mind, and walking with leisure to her wardrobe, she took down her gown for the evening's ball. It took longer then normal, to put it on, her hands shaking with repressed laughter at herself. She stood in front of the mirror, admiring the way the silvery dress caught the candles light, and winked at her from the gems sewn into its cloth. She then slipped the dainty slippers on, and as a final touch, grabbed a butterfly shaped face mask. If she could not go to the ball hosted by her father, she would hold her own.

A Shadow slinked across the courtyard, unnoticed by the tosspot stable hands, and the bustling, rosy cheeked maids.  
_ 'I do not want to risk saddling my mare. It would be too conspicuous…' _Aisling calculated, as she slid past the garden wall, and over the rustic drawbridge. The forest was not too far away, and she could take her time.

Her hands were sweating, and she kept loosing her grip on the delicate mask. She had dropped it twice previous, and with mild cursing, she had managed to not damage it.

The darkness clung to her gown, and pale figure, as if it were midnight ink. The moon was hidden behind ominous clouds, and with a dark cloak thrown over her dress, the Princess was able to escape the castle, and leave it as an illuminated tower, in the distance. Meanwhile, the forest was becoming increasing closer, the vague shapes of trees and leaves shifting to be more distinct.

Slipping her hood from her brown hair breathlessly, Aisling crossed the boundary between the forest, and the field, and immediately felt something strange. A shudder passed through her body.  
Frightened and excited, Aisling pressed on, her steps measured and silent.   
Faint at first, then gradually becoming louder, the sound of rain falling on glass met her ears. It wasn't until she drew ever closer, did she realize it was laughter.

Light blossomed in the middle of the dark murky forest, and it was not until the girl was almost right inside it, did she realize it was a clearing.

'_A clearing with people dancing…' _ Aisling corrected herself, even as she watched in awe as the people twirled and bowed gracefully. Dipping lightly, and swishing gaily. Their gowns seemed sumptuous and full, the skirts made of the finest lace, and cloud, while the male figures looked striking in black and white dress suits. It was to her added benefit that every graceful dancer held a mask in one hand, affixed to their face with only will power.

'_I may not be invited, but I am here, and I am dressed, if somewhat shabbily.'_ With conviction, she stepped into the midst of the dancing, and immediately she felt a strong pair of arms around her. They spun her around, and then released her, as another pair of arms led her around the forest floor.

The fact that her presence wasn't even questioned, felt reassuring. The long winded song drew to a close, and all the women curtsied, whilst the men bowed.

The congregations of dancers broke up, and drifted. With relief, Aisling caught sight of refreshments, and immediately descended on it, taking care to eat only enough to fill her, and drinking enough of whatever was in the pitcher, to slake her thirst.

Then, when a much more formal ballroom waltz was picked up by the…

'_Where are the musicians?'_ Looking about, Aisling realized the music was coming from nowhere.

'_I knew this was strange the minute I stumbled upon it…but what in the mother's sweet name, is it?'_

"May I claim you for this dance?" A strange man asked, from behind a wolf mask. Nodding her assent, Aisling let herself be led onto the forests center once again, and with a low curtsey, began their dance. It was going well; the music lulling her into a hypnotic state of peace, when the stranger said something that made her heart lurch.

"You are not Fae. Leave while you still can." The wolf-masked man hissed into her ear, bending close enough to stir the hair on her neck.

"She could kill you for even being here."


	4. The mask and the Queen

**Thank you for your patience. School has been insane! Much appreciated reviews, once more. **

**Claimer: I own all these characters, all mine. Stories people, masks and carpet mice, all mine. **

Her immediate instincts told her to break away from her dancing partners arms, and to run far away. She was held fast however, by the wolf-mans arms, which were far stronger then she might have imagined.

"I...I have no inkling to what you are talking about." Aisling replied stiffly, her heart hammering so loudly, she was sure it was audible to everyone. The dancers continued to spin on the floor, their dresses suspended inches from the ground, never settling for second.

"You know very well what I mean. I do not care one whit for some silly spoiled girl who has the stupidity to join a Fae's gala without an invitation. I do however, want to cheat her of her spoils, and so my spoiled girl, leave." His face inched closer to hers until he could have laid his forehead against hers. He was not going to do so however, and his grip on her arms became painful.

"If you do not leave now, I will see to it that she finds you. Who knows, perhaps she will turn you into a boar for the fun of it. In the past, I have seen a stupid youth become a horsefly just for not bowing low enough. Whatever you wish human girl." Aisling had had enough. Her arms hurt, she was scared, and he was invading her personal space.

Therefore she employed her charm and wit to assist in her escape from his clutches. Giving him a sweet smile, she brought her heel down very hard onto his foot, kicked his shin with her other, and pushed him away. A few glances came her way, but they turned aside in silent laughter at the glare of the wolf-masked-man. Aisling returned his glare with her own.

"I will have you know that I am the seventh daughter of the king of Daire. I am not some stupid girl with whom which you can handle roughly and expect to be meek."

Disdain was evident on his face, and was reflected within her own. Then, bowing ironically, the man stepped away from her. "My apologies your highness I would tell you my own name, but it has slipped my mind. Take instead, Faolan." The sarcastic tone his voice inhabited raised the princess's hackles, but she merely made her own voice match his as they resumed dancing to stop drawing attention from the many masked patrons.

"Wolf, how suiting. I believe you know enough about me to guess my name, but I will not give it either. Instead, you may take Fallon."

Faolan gave her a smile that she was sure a wolf would give to his prey. "It is better that you do not use your name here, Fallon, for it would just be another thread for her to ensnare you with. Speaking of, I believe you best start running, for her spell is running out of power, and she can not have that."

Anger flashed across the masked mans eyes, which frightened Aisling more then any outburst might have. Any further worries that might have ensured from her dancing partner were cut short by worries which ensured from an external source. One by one the couples stopped dancing on around the clearing, and strange thing happened. Emotions, totally unheralded, sprung. Cries of hate and rage, sobs of sorrow and self-pity echoed amongst the trees and in succession, as each person fell to the ground. Drawing away from the magicked people quickly, she turned to look at the man who she called Faolan.

A grim line across his jaw was all that she saw, and he shaking fists clenched at his sides. "Go now Fallon, and if you ever come back to this place, I will kill you myself." Aisling stumbled further back, her hand clutching at open air in surprise. Swearing, the man grabbed her arm and dragged her across the clearing. She only choked in indignation, but she was too stunned to fight back completely. "Wh-what are you doing? Have you lost it completely?" Aisling cried, her nails digging into the man's hands. Growling, Faolan continued dragging her, sounding as feral as his mask denoted. "I am saving your arrogant, damned life, no go!" Faolan threw Aisling into the bush, her mask becoming -dislodged as she fought the tall grass for purchase of ground. Faolan's eyes cleared a moment, as he beheld the girl breathing harshly, partly from fear, part from anger. Then, a cry tore through the night and his frantic behaviour started anew. "Leave now! Leave and be gone with you, Fallon!" Then, he ran from the bushes, and after looking around, hid his face in his arms like those beside him.

Aisling, too frightened by his obscene behaviour, did not flee, nor did she return to the now upset group.

It was a stark contrast to the earlier merriment, and every face held a horrible and dark secret, which she dared not decipher. It felt like an eternity of her crouching in the grass, her once beautiful dress ruined by the green stains of plants and dirt. She forgot her resentment in a second, as two bright flames lit in the air in the center of the clearing. Aisling felt her skin rise in goose bumps. '_a pair of steeds, made from sun, galloped behind the Fae silently. Mounting up, they rode into yesterdays, and dreams, to finally arrive in the realm of the Faeries.'_

Her instincts screaming at her to cower, and her curiosity demanding she stay, Aisling struggled a moment, before she decided to trust the secondary emotion. She started to reconsider as the flames that covered a pair of horses black as night, paled in comparison to the being that descended from the chariot they had been drawing. Aisling felt a stab of jealousy at the beings obvious grace, and the fine features that traced perfection across its visage. The being itself became a woman as the lights about her eased, to resume illuminating the clearing.

"_It is time for the unmasking, get up from the dirt. That is no place for my gala to be!" _The woman's voice was jovial, but it lacked something that made Aisling shudder. It was not that she did not sound gay, but that it was as if all her emotions were an act, to coincide with her beautiful face, and the expression on it.

"_That is better, my pets." _The woman said, as they all stood slowly, their masks gone, and their face smudged with tears and dirt. Only one kept his mask, Faolan. Feeling strangely apprehensive for him, she watched as the queen; for she could be nothing but a queen, come forward.

"_Only one retains his mask? Modesty, ah- no, you were never modest. Not even before. You remember that now, do you not?" _A cruel smile twisted the queen's face, though it still looked more beautiful then any that might have graced a mere mortal's face.

In all of Aisling's knowledge of the Fae, gaining the attention of any seemed to be the worst, and she could not help but cower.

From what Aisling could see of Faolan, he had risen, standing a few inches taller then the regal and cruel queen.

"While I see your mask is still intact, duplicitous as always." Faolan murmured, with a tone that suggested compliancy. The queen's smile faltered a moment only, before she regained it with ease.

"Come now, it's just the remembering that is making you edgy. Isn't it? Fear not, you will not have to remember for another month."

The mask fell to the ground, and for a moment, Aisling had the side view of high cheek bones, and a strong nose, before the man hunched over, the others around him following suit. The prominent nose stretched, the flesh changing to fur. Faolan was becoming his namesake, while the other party-goers were becoming the animals their masks respectively impersonated. Still, Faolan retained his ability of speech.

"Cerridwen holds more beauty then you, hag." He growled, before becoming fully feral. Laughing, the woman waved him back into ranks with the other animals. "You will not say that in an hour's time, that much you remember and always will. Go now my lover, and see if you can seek out your way home. You have till sunrise." With that, Faolan howled, and his sleek, black form took off into the night, followed by all the other animals, once humans. The only two people left in the forest, was Aisling, and the mysterious woman. Musing aloud, the woman picked up the discarded masks, holding them in her hand, dropping them again in a second. She sighed wearily a moment, and Aisling wondered if the queen only moved to look beautiful. "He smelled like another woman this evening. I'll have to ask the swan if she was dancing with him." Then, remounting her chariot of flames, she grinned fiercely. "I love this part of the hunt."

Aisling waited until the first sliver of light showed her what she had known for the past two hours. The glade was empty, and she was a mess. Starting from her place, she ran in the direction she had come, leaving the forest behind her. The trees stalled her, with their grasping branches, but she fought past them, to the old drawbridge, and the castle walls. The entire world seemed asleep in the realm that Aisling had recently rejoined, and it was no harder to gain admittance then it was to escape. The stable hands and guards were sleeping off the effects of spirits, and much food, while servants bustled past sleepily, only thinking of falling into their own bed, and sleeping. The girl echoed the sentiment in her very bones, and slipping into her room. She only knew that she had hung her soiled gown up once more, placed the mask on a shelf, and flung her shoes from her person with hatred. Pulling the blankets around her, Aisling only distantly checked for her book which she had spirited away with such care. It was gone, but the dread did not register, as it should have. Instead, she groaned, and tried not to think of anything. Sleep would be the best thing for her sanity, which she herself dearly lacked. The nightingale did not sing then, in the small hours of the encroaching morning, but the howl of a wolf haunted Aisling in the far realms of sleep that she had crept into.

((Author's note: Faolan means wolf, Fallon means 'of a ruling family'. As well, I am Canadian, and believe in the 'u's missed out in American spelling. I'm not an awful speller, just adamant in my practices.))


End file.
